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I think it spoke well of a person if the places where they went were always welcoming to them. Maybe I should work on having that in my life. Truthfully, I just wanted someone to come home to at night who was glad to have me there. As far as I was concerned, the rest of the world could go away.
Huh. Up until that very moment, I hadn’t realized how completely I felt that way.
“It is nice to meet you, Layla. He never brings anyone here. Always eats alone when he comes. You are welcome, and we will feed you well.”
His English was very accented, and I wondered if it was like Danette’s friend, French wasn’t his first language either. It was amazing how people could just speak in multiple languages. I’d never cease to be amazed by it. And as long as I stayed in France, I’d never not be aware of it.
He poured me some red wine while Zeke declined to have any before he left the bottle on the table in between us.
“We’re going to eat pizza but it’s not pizza like you’ve ever had.” He motioned toward the window. “How about that view?”
I turned to look. He was right. There was Notre Dame on view. Even needing to be repaired, it was still gorgeous. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
It was empty. No one would take our photo here, which would defeat his purpose. This was because he’d seen me so upset about Justin. I couldn’t have that. I’d made a deal with Zeke, and I had to live out my half of it.
“Should we get our nightly photo in?” I held up my phone. “We can take a selfie. It will be enough if we do it right.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll take a picture with you if you want, but not for public consumption.”
I rose and crossed over to him. I hadn’t started out wanting a photo with him, but I did just then. Maybe because he’d told me I didn’t have to. I pressed my cheek against his and took a photo of the two of us with no idea if we looked right in it or not. What did it matter? It was just for us.
I sat back down, and he motioned toward my glass. “How’s the wine?”
“You sure you don’t want any?” I sipped it. Cherries.
Thick. A little spicy. “It’s different. I like it, but it’s not my favorite. A little too…pronounced, maybe.”
He held it up and looked at the bottle. “Merlot. Not everyone’s favorite, for sure. I’m not drinking tonight. I have precious cargo to get home safely.
I waved my hand in the air. “Oh, the things you say, Zeke.”
His smile was more of a smirk. “Admit it, you like the cheese.” His smile faded, and his gaze was distant. Zeke wasn’t really thinking about what was happening here. He was someplace else in his thoughts. Arthur set down some bread, and I ignored it. I wasn’t going to fill up on bread when there was apparently amazing pizza that was coming to eat.
“I keep thinking about that number. The thirty billion dollars the Allards are going to give to your father. Or were going to. My guess is they still are. That’s a shit ton of money.”
I nodded. “More than I can fathom, and I’ve been rich my whole life. Probably thanks to you.”
“For a long time, your dad was the miracle man with numbers. It doesn’t matter. Listen, I keep throwing that number around in my head. The Allards don’t just have that money. They’ve got it now, but they’re moving it. It feels… wrong. And when things feel wrong, I pay attention to them.”
I totally understood that. “I get these feelings on the back of my neck. Like someone is watching me, and usually someone is. It’s good to trust your gut.”
He nodded, his gaze still distant. Zeke was talking to me about this, but he wasn’t present yet. Wherever this had taken him, it wasn’t to a good location. I took his hand in mine and squeezed. For a second, he stared at our joined fingers. “When I was a much younger guy, trying to get through business school, I worked for low time crooks.
Gamblers. I didn’t break fingers or anything. I wasn’t collection. I just helped them win. I understand money.” With his free hand, he rubbed his face like it hurt.
“And?” I wanted him to continue. To get to whatever it was that was eating at him tonight. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who had needed an early dinner in a quiet restaurant where no one cared who we were.
“If they have that money and they’re moving it, then they’re involved with very bad people. They invest as a family account. Nothing in their history that I or anyone else can find indicates they should have that kind of funding. Not a thing. It’s like that money came from somewhere just recently. And all of my best senses on this are screaming in my head that it’s just wrong. I thought maybe up to forty million would be a reasonable amount for them to have. But that much? The amount they’re giving? It’s…ill gotten. It’s moving through them to your dad, and it’s going to come back to bite him in the ass, either with the law or maybe worse, because those kinds of people aren’t small time crooks running poker games and betting on horses for two hundred bucks.”
It wasn’t hard to follow what he was saying to me here. “They don’t break fingers.”
“They burn down lives.” He sighed. “And it’s everything I can do to not call your dad and ask him if he’s out of his mind. Not that he’d talk to me.” He finally met my gaze.
“He’s seething mad because I have you. Ranting. Raving.”
I would have pulled my hand back at that piece of information he should have given me before now, but he stroked his thumb over my knuckles. And even though I should have been the type of woman who didn’t react to that when she was upset, I wasn’t. I really liked how that felt.
“How long ago did he do that?”
